Mythical Intervention
by routavaurio
Summary: Sequel to Clashing with Legends. When the Avengers and the Guardians first met, they parted with a tenuous alliance and the belief that their jobs wouldn't need to interfere with each other. But now a new threat forces them to work together again, and both groups might have to compromise their principles and beliefs in order to protect what they have sworn to keep safe.
1. Unrest

**This is a sequel to my previous crossover called ****_Clashing with Legends _****so I'd recommend you read it first. This fic takes place after****_ Iron Man 3 _****and ****_Thor: the Dark World _****but before ****_Captain America: The Winter Soldier. _****The films happening before that one will possibly be referenced and spoilered. There will be some important notes after the chapter so read them if you want to help me find more villains for the story.**

* * *

**1. Unrest**

Leaves were disturbed from their gentle falling by a gust of wind that sent them tumbling all over the place. It wasn't a friendly sort of wind. It was unforgiving, cold, and angry. Not the sort of breeze to bask in or have a good, calming conversation with. The leaves hit the ground far away from their tree and were almost immediately coated crisp with frost. As soon as it formed, it melted when the temperature went up again, indecisive of whether to be lingering summer or upcoming winter. It was early October, a time when such a thing was not unheard of, but this time it carried an unease that sent animals into hiding in fear of things to come. An unease that swept across lands and did not go unnoticed by anyone with senses sharp enough. Or those with something to sense for them.

Meteorologists all over the world were baffled by the freak weather patterns. Storms and hurricanes shook the coasts even worse than usual, while in some areas people were suffering heatstrokes because of sudden extreme heat waves that had no business in the area at this time. It was as if the weather itself was having a temper tantrum. Some said it was the Apocalypse, some said it was global warming. Some denied either of them ever happening. Some said nothing and just tried to keep living their lives as if nothing was happening. Some really didn't notice anything odd. Some searched for the source, perplexed and without knowing what to look for. And the very few who did know were even more perplexed.

A sudden storm in the middle of Siberia went mostly unnoticed. It was in a fairly empty area, and people were more concerned when the freak weather hit the cities. The storm tore down ancient trees and lightning bolts struck so frequently that for a moment the air was filled with an unbroken stream of rumble that really did sound like some sort of end of the world. Then it was over. So quickly that the forest was left in eerie silence and even the hardiest of bears stayed cowering in their hiding places for hours after the storm had passed.

Bare feet touched one of the broken, fallen trees and frost coated the trunk immediately, almost gently as if soothing it after it had been torn down and burned. The feet continued on through the biggest clearing left by the storm and stopped in the middle. It was far too silent. The forest felt afraid. As it should be. Storms happened, and it was normal, but these storms were fuelled by emotions. A temper tantrum could really have been a good way of describing it, but as Jack Frost realized when he inspected the cowering clearing, the storm itself was fuelled more by apprehension than anger.

It wasn't right. This had to be _her _doing. And _she _didn't get apprehensive without a very good reason. Jack sighed and ran a hand through his snowy white hair. They needed to find her, but she was aggravatingly fast. She hadn't been here long ago, but Jack had just missed her.

"Come on, Wind," he said quietly, mostly just so that the silence was broken for a while.

He hoped Sandy had better luck than him.

* * *

S.H.I.E.L.D.'s headquarters were never quiet. There were so many things the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division needed to keep tabs on that it could never take a break. They too were interested in the storms, among other things. At first they had paid no attention to them, but then their energy scanners had picked up something that made them immediately interesting. They had seen this kind of energy before, in an incident S.H.I.E.L.D.'s leader Nicholas Fury didn't remember very fondly. The energy was like what the spirits known as the Guardians generated all the time, but it was all over the place. It was never still enough for them to get a good enough reading of it. And it was just a bit too different. Perhaps it wasn't the Guardians after all. But then, who or what was it?

Fury sat down in his current office. It was in one of their headquarters in Canada, and it wasn't really one of his most well-equipped offices, but it was the closest to where the most recent freak weather patterns had occurred. Fury adjusted his eye patch and frowned at the screen that was filled with a cluster of opened files. Videos, graphs, 3D-models... all trying to illustrate something they couldn't really see. Something that could end up being just really weird weather. Then again, Fury's instincts told him that it would not. As if they didn't have other things to worry about now. Building new Helicarriers, keeping terrorist groups like HYDRA down, Project Insight... they didn't really need to add weather forecasts to the mix.

His gaze strayed to the phone he had on his desk. It was just one of the cell phones he owned and used. This one was sleek and silver-coloured and couldn't be used for calling. It only had one function, and that was sending one-way text messages to only one number. It was a number Fury had never thought he would need to add to his contact lists, but there it was. Had been since the Christmas after the Guardian incident. He had never used it, even though it had come with clear instructions that Fury had burned after he had memorized them. Now he was seriously considering using it. If the Guardians _were _involved... if it _was _going to concern them all... Fury didn't want a repeat of the last time. He picked the phone up but then put it back down. They had managed to coexist without coming into contact for some time now, and that was just fine by Fury. The Guardians and S.H.I.E.L.D. hadn't parted in the best of terms. He would double-check things and make sure, then he would contact them, he decided. He turned back to his screen. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

Tony Stark looked at Bruce Banner over a plate of shawarma. It was weird, Tony mused, how the most random things could become sort of constant. The shawarma-thing had started after the Chitauri attack, and Bruce and Tony's get-togethers had started a bit later. Maybe it had been because Tony had needed someone to talk to during his worst times. When his post-traumatic stress had become too bad to bear and he had just been a crazy, obsessed Iron Man -suit fetishist. When he had walked through some form of hell and almost lost everything he held dear and in the end realized he didn't need the Iron Man -suit to be Iron Man. Even though Tony felt like he had come to a point in his life where he could start calling that terrible time "the past", some things had stuck. Like Bruce, who had gone from a sort of amateur therapist who couldn't even stay awake during the talks Tony had practically forced on him to just a friend. That one Tony didn't mind at all. Now a simple talk among friends, away from Tony's tower or Bruce's place was a welcome break every now and then.

"You know, I never thought I could like this stuff so much," Tony remarked and lifted the shawarma roll slightly, "And I think this place has been packed ever since we ate here the first time. With all the Avengers assembled, remember that?"

Bruce looked around as if only now noticing that the place didn't have any empty tables left.

"This _is _pretty good," he admitted and took a bite of his food, "So, in a... in a nutshell, how have you been lately? Everything good with Pepper?"

"Yep," Tony said proudly, "She's recovered and we're doing well. This sort of retirement was something that back in the day didn't seem like an option, but now it's like... I was supposed to do it all this time."

Bruce nodded.

"And Pepper's been happy lately too," Tony went on, "Really busy, but happy. I've been thinking of taking her for a vacation one of these days. Soon, hopefully, just the two of us. You know, normal couple stuff after all that crap we've been through. How about you? No green giant episodes? Nothing else weird?"

"I'm doing fine," Bruce said curtly, "The weather's been a little strange, though."

Tony slapped his hand lightly on the table.

"Oh, come on! Don't tell me that we've become two guys with genius level IQs who get together to talk about weather! That's one of _the _most boring subject ever."

"It isn't if it's strange. Or if you analyse it."

"Okay, a fair point. Actually now that you mention it, I picked up some weird readings back in the tower and I think it has something to do with that."

Bruce raised a brow.

"Really? What kind of readings?"

Tony looked around in the packed shawarma joint. The people were minding their own business, seemingly oblivious to the fact that they were sharing their lunch-eating space with a doctor who could turn into a giant green man when angry and a billionaire genius who not too long ago had been flying around in a metal suit and saving people. Still, it never hurt to be cautious. Even if Tony figured that he could probably get away with talking crazy stuff. He _was _still recovering from PTSD, after all.

"It's... uh... Guardian-readings," Tony finally said in a low voice, "But we can talk about that later. I don't have much at the moment."

Bruce's eyes widened.

"What?" he whispered.

"Exactly. So... yeah. Weather. Weird stuff, huh?"

As if Tony's words had served as a sort of ill omen, golf ball sized hailstones started falling from the sky, sending even more people into the already full restaurant to seek shelter.

* * *

They waited. It wasn't a very comfortable wait. The silence was awkward and in a room that was usually meant for strategic meetings it felt especially poignant. But this was a strategic meeting, right? They were waiting for intelligence they required to actually plan their next steps. Fury had sent a message to a certain number almost an hour ago, and they didn't really know how long it took for the message to reach the Guardians. Or even if they would respond at all. It was frustrating. Very frustrating. But then again, it was the smartest way of going with it as far as they could see. The last time they had barged into a situation like this they had almost ended up in a war with holiday mascots.

Steven Rogers sat in a corner and tried to pass the time by studying the others in the room. The meeting was very small. Fury, agents Maria Hill, Natasha Romanoff and Clint Barton were in the room with him. Hill was in her place next to Fury, ready to operate one of the many computers in the room. Clint watched the room warily as if expecting one of the Guardians was already there and just hiding in a corner somewhere. Natasha sat next to Steve, and was too focused on waiting to have a conversation, which Steve kind of regretted. He and Natasha had been to a couple of missions together lately, and they had formed what Steve could call friendship. It was always a nice feeling, to have someone to count on. Steve knew everyone thought of him as a nice guy and usually got along okay with him, but in many cases it was more like admiration and politeness. Real friends made Steve feel more like at home. Like he wasn't a super soldier who had been frozen for almost seventy years and then woken up in a world that had gone so much forward without him that he might as well have woken up on a different planet.

No one else had been told of the meeting. They had all agreed to keep any possible contacts to the Guardians as much a secret as possible. It would just raise too many uncomfortable questions otherwise. And wreck their image as a serious organization. Still, Steve hoped the rest of the Avengers wouldn't mind being left out of the loop at the moment. Although to be fair, at least Tony would probably find some way to get wind of this before he was officially told. Steve was fairly sure of it.

The wait ended when a hole opened up in floor in the middle meeting room. Clint tensed just a bit and Fury raised a brow. When a tall, grey rabbit hopped out of the hole, Steve concluded that Fury's message had really reached the Guardians. And they had responded very personally. The Easter Bunny, Bunnymund, stood in the middle of the high tech meeting room and surveyed the people present with a calculating stare that was just distrusting enough to not make anyone comfortable. Without the stare the Easter Bunny might have looked very comical in such an environment, especially when he seemed to be holding a colourful box of chocolates under his arm and there were goggles resting on his forehead. Bunnymund's sweeping stare stopped at the sight of Fury, and he let out a sigh.

"G'day," the bunny said, and it was the least cheery "G'day" Steve had ever heard in his life.

Steve remembered that he had been invited primarily because he was the most friendly with the Guardians out of the Avengers and stood up to respectfully shake Bunnymund's hand... paw.

"Good to see you again, Mr. Bunnymund," he said, as businesslike as one could be when talking to a bunny.

Bunnymund nodded. The hole in the middle of the room closed up as if as an afterthought.

"Glad to see some of you have manners."

"It's good that you responded," Fury said, "There's an urgent matter we need the Guardians' opinion on before we act."

Bunnymund crossed his arms.

"Oh? What would be so important that you need our opinion on it? We've told you your work isn't exactly up our alley. Out with it, and make it quick. I need to get these recipes done by tonight. Ya're lucky I'm in a good mood or I wouldn't even be here. Chocolate?"

It was all said so fast that it took Steve a while to process it. Then he realized the last part was addressed directly to him.

"Um... yes, please," he managed to say when no one else said anything.

Bunnymund regarded Steve appraisingly again. In the background Fury was getting annoyed. Steve could tell it mostly by the man's intensified glare. Otherwise the man looked as professional as ever.

"Ah. Gotcha," Bunnymund said, carefully picked out a beautifully shaped piece of confectionery from his box and handed it to Steve, "Very fine milk chocolate with vanilla and just a bit of blueberry and raspberry in the filling. Okay then, business."

Bunnymund spun around to look at Fury. It was the most bizarre meeting Steve remembered them ever having in the room. Bunnymund seemed so far removed from the killer rabbit persona he exhibited on the battlefield. If it wasn't for the "Don't mess with me" -stare and the familiar Australian accent, Steve would have thought they had got the wrong Easter Bunny.

"The business," Fury said with a slightly impatient edge to his voice, "is this."

He motioned for Hill to bring up a few better screens on their weather pattern analyses. They were projected into the air in three dimensions.

"I don't know if you have noticed the strange shifts in weather all over the Northern hemisphere recently."

Bunnymund looked suddenly very interested.

"Yeah, we've noticed," he said warily, "What's it to you?"

Fury brought up more visuals, this time of energy readings Steve had already seen dozens of times.

"This," Fury simply said.

Bunnymund tilted his head.

"What am I supposed to be lookin' at?"

Fury pointed to the nearest energy reading.

"Energy. Similar but a bit different to what we used to track your group the last time we crossed paths. At first we thought your Frost was acting up, but this is too different. This one isn't any of yours, is it? We need to make sure before we start taking any precautions."

"Make sure?" Bunnymund repeated, "Well, that's an improvement. Or did you already kidnap the source before you contacted us?"

Fury deliberately ignored the comment.

"Do you know what the source is?" he just asked.

Bunnymund looked thoughtful. Steve took a bite of the chocolate before it melted in his hand. His taste buds started immediately doing a happy dance.

"Yes," Bunnymund finally said.

"This is the best chocolate I've ever tasted!" Steve blurted out.

There was a pressing silence when Fury looked very pointedly at Steve, who tried very hard not to blush in embarrassment. Bunnymund, however, looked pleased.

"Of course it is," he said smugly, "I don't usually just hand 'em out like that, but like I said, I'm in a good mood. And it's good to find some test subjects for the latest batch."

"What is the source?" Fury repeated.

Bunnymund looked at the readings again.

"Someone who doesn't usually do this," he said, "Don't worry. She's not... wicked. Kind of above all that nonsense, really. We have Frostbite and Sandy on the case. They're tracking her down as we speak. We think a good talk will straighten things right out."

"Her?" Natasha asked, "Who exactly is she?"

Bunnymund sighed.

"Ya're not going to leave this be without too many answers, are ya? You humans are always too bloody curious for your own good. Not that it matters. Ya won't be able to find her if she doesn't want to be found."

He sighed.

"She's Mother Nature."

Silence again. Fury massaged the bridge of his nose.

"Do we have to start assuming every possible fairytale character will start acting up at some point?"

Bunnymund snorted.

"Ya've dealt with magic before. Don't be too surprised. Some people ya're friends withcould be called fairy tales. Just because you can explain weather doesn't mean there can't be someone behind it."

"So what should we do about her?" Steve asked.

"Nothing. And I _mean _it so ya'd better believe it this time. We'll straighten this out. Just focus on warning people of the nasty weather, if that feels like your thing.

"Where is she now?" Fury crossed his arms.

"We don't know yet," Bunnymund admitted, "But we're looking, and you can bet we'll find her soon. Now was that all? 'Cause I need to go back to my chocolates. It's only five months 'till Easter."

He looked almost challengingly at everyone in the room. Fury slowly shook his head.

"That's all. Thank you for your time."

"No worries," Bunnymund said and thumped his foot on the floor. The hole opened up again, swallowing up Bunnymund and the box of the best chocolates in the world. Fury shook his head again, this time a bit more determinedly than before. He signalled Hill to switch off the screens.

"We'll continue keeping an eye on this. Now we have an idea of what we're looking for."

"Bunnymund did say that they are on it," Steve pointed out.

"I know," Fury said, "But we have to make sure this doesn't become our business as well. Barton, Romanoff, Rogers, you're dismissed, but stay alert. Hill, you come with me. We still have a lot to do, and I need to take a call from Pentagon."

They stood up to leave the meeting room. On the way outside, Natasha crouched down to pick a flower from where it had inexplicably grown through the seams of the polished floor tiles. She pocketed it and Steve could only assume it would end up somewhere where flowers occurred naturally. No need to leave evidence of the Easter Bunny's visit to one of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s highly guarded facilities.

* * *

**Author's Note: So some time ago I wrote a thing called ****_Clashing with Legends _****and quite a lot of people enjoyed it. A lot of you have asked me to write a sequel to that, and I have answered to everyone who have asked that I would not write a sequel in more or less certain words. Now first of all I have to say that I am very sincerely, deeply sorry for that, because as you can see, I'm back (and I'm extra-special sorry if I ****_didn't _****answer your questions; I really try to answer every review that asks me something and most of the others as well to the best of my ability and time). I really didn't plan on writing this but then lately these ideas started buzzing and growing in my head and I guess the weather has been so unbearably hot these last few weeks that my brain melted and I typed this. So here we are, and I'm kind of excited by this brain-melt-induced sequel idea.**

**Okay, now an important thing: I have some ideas of how this will play out but there is not a very set chain of events in my mind yet like I had when writing the first crossover, so updates won't probably be as frequent. Second and most important: I NEED A VILLAIN! Or at least one more villain; I have some in mind. I am going with Avengers-villains this time so if there's someone from the Avengers -comics you'd like to see going against the film!Avengers and the Guardians then tell me! I might make that wish come through and get help shaping my story. I would prefer to find a tech/schience-based villain from Earth to go with the ones I already have in mind. Now you need to realize that I have never read a single Marvel comic book as far as I know and one might say that writing fanfics while taking elements from something I haven't read is a terrible idea and I tend to agree with that. I have done a lot of research already and I will be doing more but I know, it isn't the same. So if you think that I shouldn't be writing this at all or if I'm writing someone/something horribly, terribly wrong, TELL ME AND I WILL BE VERY GRATEFUL! I will do my best to fix my mistakes. If this whole thing will become unfixable, I'll just scrap this and we'll still have that other crossover story by me that people seemed to like so... yeah. All other feedback is also very, very welcome.**

**All right, I'm ready for a possible train wreck of a fic and I'm trying to make it not train-wrecky to the best of my abilities. I hope I'll manage to entertain at least someone. :)**


	2. Assassin

**This chapter introduces us to our first more or less major villain, the Taskmaster. He was suggested by Kagirinai. Thanks a lot for that!**

* * *

**2. Assassin**

"I can't believe you haven't told me about Mother Nature before!"

Jamie Bennett glared at Jack almost accusingly, but the effect was kind of negated by the excited gleam in the boy's brown eyes.

"Yeah, well, I honestly don't know that much about her," Jack admitted, "She usually doesn't do much so..."

"But you know I want to know _all _about the mythical stuff!"

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry!" Jack sat down on the back of the park bench Jamie was sitting on and gave the boy a mischievous smile, "Is that enough? Or is this a drama that's going to ruin our friendship forever?"

Jamie's young face spread into a grin.

"Well no, duh. Just as long as you remember to tell me next time you guys do something exciting."

"It's not very exciting, really. We haven't even found her. Hey, are those muffins made by your mom?"

Jack pointed at the plastic box that Jamie had brought with him and that housed two golden brown muffins.

"Yeah. Want one? Careful, they have all sorts of pumpkin seeds and stuff in them. Mom's having this health obsession time right now. They should still be pretty good, though."

Jack grabbed a muffin from the box. It was almost fresh from the oven and still warm. For about three seconds until his touch caused it to frost over, anyway. Jack took a bite before it froze all the way through. The centre was warm, and the outside was pleasantly cold. Perfect. Taking a break in Burgess had been a great idea.

"So what are you going to do now?" Jamie asked, "About Mother Nature, I mean."

Jack shrugged.

"Talk to her, as soon as we find her. She usually doesn't want anyone to butt into her business, but she'll probably talk to Sandy. Sandy and her go way back. I'm mostly helping him to cover more ground."

"So Mother Nature doesn't like you? Jamie guessed.

Jack laughed a bit nervously.

"I tried to pull a prank on her once. Not my brightest moment. She has real nasty temper. I think it was the first time I was ever struck by lightning. After that we've just... done our own jobs and left each other alone. It has worked out so far."

"Weird," Jamie mumbled, turning a muffin in his hands, "I'd have thought she was like your boss or something."

"Boss?" Jack suddenly jumped into a standing position, swinging his crooked shepherd's staff onto his shoulders and doing his best to look impressive and offended at the same time. It was easier said than done when one was stuck looking like a scrawny teenager, "You think I, Jackson Overland Frost, would listen to some lady just because she has weather powers that aren't limited to just one season? No. She does what she wants, I do what I want. She can have her storms and whatnot, but winters, blizzards... they are _my_ thing. Mostly."

He was fairly proud of his little speech. Jamie was still grinning.

"Okay, I get it. Speaking of blizzards, when are we going to get a snow day?"

"Not for a while, kiddo. It's October so I'm just starting to cool this place down. You know that."

Jamie sighed.

"Yeah... I just wish winter came sooner so you'd hang out with us more."

Jack knew Jamie wasn't trying to guilt trip him, but he felt guilty nonetheless. He knew he had been busy elsewhere, making new believers, doing his job... and now he had to track down Mother Nature as well. It was always difficult being apart from his believers. Especially the Burgess kids who had been the first ones. He knew he shouldn't pick favourites too much, but every Guardian knew that first believers were special. And Jamie especially was such a great kid. Like a little brother. Who was getting less and less little all the time. Jack forced those thoughts out of his head. Now was not the time to worry about loss. Jamie was still in elementary school. The time when he became an adult was somewhere far away in the future. He smiled at Jamie again and spun his staff around a couple of times to coax the first snowflakes of that year's winter in Burgess to fall lazily into the park. Jamie caught one of them into his hand and laughed.

* * *

Clint Barton went through the last few days in his head while he got ready for his assignment. Aside from the Mother Nature -news, nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Well, nothing out of the ordinary by their standards. But then again, they had fought aliens alongside a green giant and a Norse God, so they probably weren't the best people to determine what normal was. Clint carefully picked out some of his trick arrowheads and loaded them into his quiver. His assignment was a routine one for him. Basic reconnaissance in an area where they had picked up signs of suspicious technology and possible signs of illicit military operations. It wasn't anything major. In fact, Clint had volunteered mostly because he wanted something to do. It had been quiet lately, and besides being an agent, there wasn't a whole lot else in Clint's life, to be honest. He had been allowed to go, but with warnings that this might be a waste of his skills. Which it probably was. Still, something was bothering Clint about this, making his instincts ring alarm bells. He didn't really know why. Maybe he should just let it go for the moment and focus on the mission. He grabbed his collapsible bow and headed out.

He was driven to a forested location near the border between USA and Canada. It wasn't tactically a very good hiding place for a possible terrorist group. A bit too close to one of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s own operation bases. Not that outsiders could find that out easily. Clint stepped out of the car when it stopped long before they reached their destination and continued on foot. The woods were decidedly not quiet. Nature never really was. Clint kept his eyes and ears sharp and tried to discern possible out-of-place sounds from the chirping of birds and the rustle of leaves. He adjusted the small microphone he had in the collar of his dark-coloured combat vest. Deputy director Hill was on the other end of the radio all the time, just like she was on the other end of several other radios. Hill was probably pulling quadruple duty as mission control in their most covert operations. Clint muttered a few words into the mike to indicate he was in the destination and en route to a better vantage point. He trekked through the forest without using any existing paths and quickly arrived to the glen they had flagged as suspicious. He used the trees and undergrowth as cover and found his vantage point on a hill with a good view to the place.

A small structure, a bunker made mostly of metal and wood, was very well hidden among the trees, but Clint's sharp eyes, aided by binoculars, could pick it out no problem.

"Okay, I see it," he said in a barely audible voice, "Well hidden, no activity outside yet. I can see some signs of that technology our satellites picked up."

"_Can you get closer?" _Hill's radio-distorted question echoed into Clint's earpiece.

"Of course."

Clint crept towards the building, as alert as he possibly could. If there was anyone in there, they hadn't seemed to have noticed that an agent was so close to their base, but it never hurt to be cautious. Clint froze in place when someone dressed in camouflage gear stepped out from behind the building's corner.

"One soldier outside," Clint said, "Basic camouflage gear, carries a pistol, no other visible weapons. Wait..."

He zoomed in on the gun at the man's waist. It wasn't anything available in regular gun shops. In fact, it looked suspiciously like...

"Hang on, I'm sending you visual of the gun."

He practically heard Hill's concentrated stare when he sent the images through.

"_That looks like one of our R'n'D projects," _Hill stated after an audible silence.

"That's what I thought too. Is this a really weird coincidence or do we have a leak somewhere?"

"_Neither option is likely. Something isn't right. We need more information."_

"This could become much more than a routine operation."

"_Then it's good we sent you, Hawkeye."_

Clint nodded quietly, even though he knew Hill couldn't see it. This was... interesting. Clint couldn't say he was told about all of S.H.I.E.L.D's more experimental projects, but even he had seen some of the prototypes of the weapons one of this unknown soldier seemed to be carrying. It had been one of the models they had designed with the infinite power source of the ancient Tesseract in mind, and it had been meant to fire energy slugs that would both shock and burn the target. These had to be modified versions, though. The Tesseract wasn't on Earth any longer. And how had these people got wind of the weapons in the first place? It was troubling to say the least. Hill was right: they needed more information. They had to set up surveillance, figure out what was going on, and...

Clint's instincts suddenly alerted him that something was wrong. He automatically drew his bow and crouched even lower in his hiding spot.

"_Is something wrong?"_

"Not yet," Clint muttered, "But might be soon. I'm going radio silent."

He then switched off his link to mission control and focused fully on his surroundings. At first, he couldn't hear or see anything out of the ordinary – save for the mysterious bunker about a hundred feet to his left – but he had long ago learned to at least check his surroundings carefully whenever his instincts went on high alert. He watched and listened, and eventually the normal sounds of nature gave way to something that didn't belong there. Just for a second, but that second was enough. Someone was approaching him. Someone fast and stealthy, but not good enough to fool him. Clint's fingers brushed one of his arrows, and he waited for a while longer before drawing it. The arrowhead was basically a capsule that contained tear gas. It wasn't exactly harmful, but it would incapacitate almost anyone effectively for some time. Unless someone had decided to go for a stroll in the forest wearing a gas mask. Unlikely, but hey, one could never know.

Clint moved from his spot when he heard a crunch of leaves that could have been innocent, but wasn't. He turned silently and aimed his bow to the trees at his right. Nothing. An amateur might have relaxed at that. If Clint had been an amateur, he might have died three seconds later when a bullet from a silenced handgun shot from the bushes. Clint moved so that the projectile only grazed his side. The bulletproof vest he was wearing would need to be replaced, but that was way better than having his head splattered all over the undergrowth. Clint let his dodge continue into a controlled fall and he was back on his feet when someone fast and strong leaped out of the bushes. Clint aimed his bow, leading the quick target and let the tear gas fly. It struck the attacker in the shoulder with enough force to stop their charge. The tear gas was released and Clint quickly stepped back to not get caught in it. That was when the attacker stopped for long enough for Clint to notice two things. One: the attacker was clearly an athletic man wearing some sort of combat armour that didn't fit into the dress code of anyone except superheroes – or supervillains. Two: said outfit came with a face-concealing mask that seemed to do a good job at keeping the tear gas out. Figures. Time for some a bit more offensive arrows, then.

Clint took even more distance and prompted his quiver to select a regular, sharp arrowhead. Deadly if aimed right, crippling if aimed right in a slightly different way. He would go with crippling. Clint set the arrow on the bowstring and took aim when his opponent was still staggered from the blow to the shoulder. He targeted the man's weapon arm again. He let go. The masked man saw the arrow, but he shouldn't have enough time to dodge. He didn't. But he did have time to _catch _it. Hawkeye blinked. It was becoming very obvious that his opponent wasn't just a regular guy in a silly suit. The man flung the arrow away and raised his gun. For a second the waning sunlight reflected on the man's metallic mask and made it look more menacing than it really was. Considering it was designed to look like a skull, the effect was admittedly rather intimidating. Clint slipped behind a tree for cover and went through tactics in his head as quickly as his quiver was going through arrowheads in search of the right one. Bullets cracked the bark near Clint's head and Clint spun from one cover to the next, shooting an arrow at the man on the way. It was a quick shot, hopefully too quick for the man to react in _any _way this time.

The arrow glanced off the man's shoulder guard. Clint switched covers again and opened his radio link back to Hill.

"Problems," he grunted.

"_What is it, Hawkeye?"_

"I was attacked."

"_What?" _Hill sounded disbelieving.

"I know, I know," Clint crouched low to avoid another bullet, "I'm taking him down and leaving. Or should I get more intel?"

"_Is he from the bunker?"_

"I don't know. I'll call when the situation has calmed down a bit."

The man zigzagged towards Clint, clearly trying to make Clint's aiming difficult. Clint fired anyway, keeping his hands steady and his head clear. He had faced Norse gods, aliens, and literal nightmares, so a masked commando wasn't going to throw him off-guard. The next arrow hit the man in the right arm, and the man went down with a muffled shout. Clint folded his bow but didn't put it away and sprinted from his cover. When the attacker went down to his knees, Clint was already close enough to drop the man all the way to the ground with a well-placed kick. He caught the man's armoured, muscular arm and twisted it. He didn't quite get it into a proper hold before the man broke loose, freeing his arm and aiming a very well practised palm strike at Clint's face. Clint threw his arm up to prevent his nose from meeting his brain and was sent tumbling onto his back from the force of the blow. The fallen autumn leaves crunched under him when he got back up and saw the man running away with speed that could easily have earned him a medal in the Olympics. He left behind a trail of blood that Clint could easily follow until it suddenly ended. The attacker had probably managed to patch himself up on the go. Clint took a deep breath and stopped to listen again. Soft rustles and crunches were steadily getting away. Just when Clint was about to go into hunting mode, he heard commotion near the base. People were gathering outside. Someone was pulling out a pair of binoculars. Hawkeye flattened himself against he ground and sighed.

"He's getting away, but the people in the bunker are starting to get suspicious. If I don't leave now, I'll risk the entire mission."

He knew the mission hadn't gone the way it was supposed to. Not even close. Clint couldn't say he liked it. He should have been a professional. More prepared for situations like this.

"_Get out of there before they start coming out in force," _Hill said, _"Let's hope this doesn't scare them away yet. We'll continue watching with just the satellites for now."_

Hawkeye nodded needlessly again and slipped away unnoticed by the searching soldiers. Defeated, he started his trek back. He was told he would be picked up half a mile from his current location. It was a short walk, but it gave him some time to think. The attacker had almost come out of nowhere. He couldn't remember them ever having any talk of a masked fighter like that. And how had he even found Clint here in the wilderness? Was he working with the people in the bunker? They needed to know more. The phrase of the day, it seemed. So much for routine missions. Clint had a feeling Fury wouldn't be too pleased of yet another addition to the list of things they needed to worry about.

* * *

They said that the Boogeyman lived under the bed. And they were right, in a way. It was mostly his own little joke, putting an old bed on top of the main entrance to his domain. In reality, Pitch Black, the Boogeyman, lived deep underground. He had shaped his realm during his centuries of hiding and occasional larger scale attack. He had got it right ages ago, after arduously crafting the shifting, Escher style corridors and decorated them with nightmares and darkness. That sounded more poetic if one didn't know it was literally what most of his décor consisted of. Usually his lair was alive with occasional minions, his Fearlings made of fear and shadow moving about in search of dreams to devour. Now it was much quieter, the Fearlings were sluggish, and Pitch's beloved army of Nightmare horses had been reduced to one.

Pitch Black was not happy. He sat in a shadow in his lair, letting the darkness and solitude give him strength. It didn't make him feel much better, though. He was hungry. The dreams he had managed to turn into nightmares, the fear he had scraped together in the last few months had barely made him strong enough to stay in solid form. Ever since the Guardians and the Avengers had defeated him in New York, the damned Guardians had been vigilant to the point of obsession. Pitch had been sneaking through the shadows, avoiding the Sandman's deadly light and sickeningly happy dreamsand, cursing his luck. Sure, he had faced hard times before, but the last time he had been defeated this badly twice in quick succession had been centuries ago. It hurt his pride. And just plain hurt.

His only remaining Nightmare trotted over to him, whinnying affectionately. Pitch patted her shadowy flank, noting with distaste that his fingertips still looked a bit intangible. He sighed. A few of his Fearlings scattered into the looping corridors of his home, almost as if they had something important to do. The truth was that Pitch wasn't really planning anything that would require any work from his minions at the moment. He was too tired, too starving for anything grander than just a few amateur dream capers. The Fearlings soon returned, nervously fluttering about and whispering something about an intruder. Pitch was up in a second and forced himself to forget about self-pity for the moment. Had someone sneaked in? Without him noticing? He _really_ was losing his touch. He concentrated, letting his senses spread outwards through the shadows, and found a familiar presence. Familiar, and very unexpected.

"You?" he asked hoarsely when she stepped into his view, partly out of exhaustion, partly because of the sorrow welling up in him.

His guest didn't waste time for greetings.

"The earth is concerned," she said instead, "And I know someone is hiding from me. From everyone, I'd think."

"From you?" Pitch asked, "There's someone even you can't find?"

Her eyes were steely. They hurt him.

"They must be powerful and clever to do that indeed. But someone who hides is always afraid. If nothing else then of discovery."

"So you came to ask my help?" Pitch might have laughed if it had been anyone else he was talking to, "I'm honoured."

"And I'm desperate," she said icily, and the temperature in Pitch's lair dropped further, "I have searched everywhere, but I haven't found them. I know you have been sneaking about. And I see an assassin preying on the ones who helped the Guardians defeat you in New York. Is there anything you know about this?"

"I don't have anything to do with assassins," Pitch said, almost offended, "But I know _of_ him. He has amusing fears. I might know who he works for too. And _that _guy keeps some very interesting company."

"So who hired him? And what kind of company does this man keep?"

He could sense she was growing impatient. He probably shouldn't push his luck just to keep her in his company a while longer, even though he wanted nothing more than to sit her down and ask her how she was and if time had treated her well. So he told her what he knew. She hummed thoughtfully and then huffed in irritation.

"Of course! Those damned Asgardians..."

"What are you going to do about it?"

She didn't answer. Instead she stormed off as if staying in Pitch's lair a second longer made her want to destroy something. Which was probably exactly how she felt. Pitch unclenched his semi-tangible fists and let out a long, unhappy sigh. Sometimes he didn't even know why he cared. Then he remembered again, if remembering was what the foggy echoes from so long ago could be called.

* * *

It didn't take long for them to dig out information on Barton's attacker. Not that it made Fury much happier. Things just didn't seem to go their way. Although, they rarely did. That was why they existed. To keep people safe when things went to hell. They had all accepted it when they had signed up.

Barton hadn't been seriously injured during the mission, and he had even managed to get a few pictures of the attacker. The armour and the mask were very distinct, and they had been recognized after some searching.

"An assassin, known as the Taskmaster," Hill read out loud from the screen where the masked man's profile had been opened, "Real identity unknown. Nothing major on his record so far. Minor hits, never anything big enough to warrant our attention more than this one file."

"Until now."

"Until now," Hill admitted.

Fury ran a hand over his scalp.

"An assassin, attacking near people who were carrying weaponry possibly stolen from us. Targeting an Avenger. I think we just got a new priority."

"Do you think the Taskmaster attacked Hawkeye to defend the base?" Hill wondered, "Or was Clint singled out because he was an Avenger? We have had other agents near the base, and they have never been attacked."

Fury's brow creased. Hill had a point.

"We need more intel," he said finally, "For now, we just go with what we have and we'll be even more on our guard from now on."

He turned to leave the office.

"Track their movements as far as you can," he added when he reached the doorway, "I want that base watched twenty-four/seven. Get someone to check if there are leaks in our system, or if something has been broken into. I also want more info on Taskmaster. And if he turns up again I want Romanoff after him."

"Will be done," Hill said, "Should we inform the rest of the Avengers about the Taskmaster just in case?"

"Yes. Do that as well."

"I will."

* * *

**Author's Note: Wow, the news of this sequel were super well received. Now I'm feeling the pressure especially since I have no idea what I'm doing. Oh, well. I have villains now, thanks to you guys because you are awesome! And Taskmaster won't be the only villain in this. I'd appreciate it if you kept any kind of feedback coming because that would really help me get better. Someone tell me if my depiction of Taskmaster was awfully off (although he didn't do much yet so...)! Or not.**

**See you later. Sometime. When I can sort out this fic further.**


	3. Shots in the Dark

**3. Shots in the Dark**

"Yes, what is it?"

...

"Really? Interesting."

...

"No, of course I didn't know. You've debugged the system the last time I was there."

…

"Hey, I retired from Iron Manning, not from sanity."

…

"Alright. I'll keep that in mind."

Tony lowered his cell phone when the steady beep told him that Hill had hung up after a hasty goodbye.

He leaned back in his office chair that had cost more than what the salespeople in the furniture retailer made in a year. He glared at the holographic designs he had been working on without really seeing anything except glowing lines. He was too deep in thought. Hill's news were a bit troubling, but mostly interesting. True to the usual conduct of S.H.I.E.L.D., Hill had been tight-lipped about the extent of their problems, but Tony was so far in the inside circles that he had been informed that S.H.I.E.L.D. might have a security leak and that an assassin might be targeting people the Avengers Initiative had brought together. It was a couple of "mights" too many. Tony was the kind of person to turn subjunctives into indicatives, to want to search for better solutions even when others put their hands up and said "it's as good as we can make it." That was what had made him so good at discovering technological breakthroughs and making a crapload of money in the process.

Now Tony had retired from the suit and the shrapnel, and he knew Hill's warning had just been to make sure he wouldn't be as easily taken by surprise if the assassin really did decide to come after him. But Tony figured he could use his spare time for additional research and save S.H.I.E.L.D. some trouble. He would have to put his latest tech design on hold, as well as his little side project of figuring out how mythical spirits came to be, but he supposed it would be worth it. He would be helping his friends, after all.

He thought about the assassin. "The Taskmaster", according to Hill. A silly name, but Tony had to admit that silliness kind of was in the job description of both superheroes and supervillains – if this Taskmaster really was one. Did a mask and a gimmick automatically make one "super" anyway? Tony hummed amusedly at the thought and then switched off the blueprint hologram. He opened one of his slightly less futuristic computers and got to work. He had some favours to ask. And quite a few systems to hack.

"Tony? Who just called?"

Oh, right. Tony should have expected something like this wouldn't stay secret from Pepper Potts for too long. He heard Pepper's high heels clicking to a stop at the door.

"It was Hill," Tony said, "Apparently Clint was attacked by an assassin and she wanted to let me know."

"What?" Pepper asked, more worried than surprised, "Never a break with these kinds of things, then?"

From the almost nonchalance of Pepper's question, Tony figured she had been around him for too long. And he had been around weirdness for too long. When a surprise attack by an assassin became as likely as the toast falling butter-side down, something was maybe a bit wrong with your life.

"Breaks have been on short supply lately, I know," he said

"So what are you doing now?"

Pepper looked over Tony's shoulder at the computer screens, and Tony could almost heard Pepper put two and two together in a nanosecond. He tried his best to ignore Pepper's mildly disapproving look. It wasn't easy. Ignoring Pepper was one of the hardest feats Tony could think of, mostly because he never _wanted _to ignore her. She was simply too important for him.

"I'd guess you were warned about this assassin so that you would lay low instead of starting to poke around all sorts of files to track him down."

Tony looked back at Pepper when her a little too reasonable comment broke his train of thought. Pepper was leaning against the wall, her arms crossed and her grey eyes drilling holes into Tony in a very calm, friendly way. It was an expression only Pepper could pull off. She had her reddish blonde hair down and she was wearing a dark blue blouse with a matching skirt, looking both sharp and sexy in Tony's opinion.

"I'm not looking for him so I could challenge him to a fist fight," Tony said a bit defensively, "If I happen to find anything I'll just relay it to Fury."

Pepper's stare intensified a bit.

"I'm serious!" Tony said, "And yeah... fine. I'll get some actual work done, too."

Pepper sighed.

"I'm not here to order you around. Not right now anyway. I just want you to remember that you're still recovering."

"So are you," Tony said quietly, instinctively looking Pepper over for any possible side effects their latest battle could have left on her. She had been kidnapped and injected with a virus that boosted people's physical abilities and made them able to regenerate insanely fast with the downside that it could make them also explode. Tony had to remind himself for the thousandth time that Pepper was stable now, had been for months with no side effects. Still, Tony couldn't just let go of the fear that he would wake up one day and find his girlfriend in pieces all over their penthouse. He shuddered at the thought and tried to shoo it out of his head.

"I'll just check a few things, then get back on track."

Pepper's hand brushed Tony's shoulder, and Tony put his hand over hers. He squeezed her hand and tried to ground himself with the knowledge that Pepper was okay and right there. With him. Usually it worked. This time it didn't.

* * *

Sanderson Mansnoozie, the Sandman, was a busy legend. He, just like the Tooth Fairy, worked every night. And there was always night somewhere on Earth. He had got used to the routine a long time ago. Well, he himself wouldn't call it routine. He loved his job because dreams were always exciting, inspiring and unexpected even to him. It had been his job to deliver the sweetest of those dreams ever since he had crash landed on Earth all those centuries ago. Now he was even busier than usual, seeing how he also needed to both watch for signs of Pitch Black, and find Emily Jane, whom mortals called Mother Nature.

Sandy sailed across the night sky on his golden cloud of dreamsand, never stopping his work on the delicate but powerful dreams that circled around him for a few playful laps before diving down to find the sleeping people below. He sent a couple of inspirational birds of paradise and an exciting three-headed dog down and then looked further up into the sky. There were shiny night clouds in there, and a crisp chill in the air. Sandy knew this chill was Jack Frost's doing, and not left by Emily Jane. Young Jack's cold was more playful and his snowstorms were fierce and untamed. Emily Jane was much more melancholic and controlled, except when she got angry. And it was rare that she would stray into Jack's territory and start an actual blizzard. Sandy was grateful to Jack. The boy was taking so much of his time to help Sandy search. Toothiana was far too busy with teeth, and both Bunnymund and North were more bound to the ground. Besides, Jack knew the winds better than even Sandy did, which had proven to be an invaluable asset now that Emily Jane had shielded herself from almost everyone but nature itself. Jack had many times almost got her just by conversing with the winds. But she had slipped away every time. Whether it had been by choice or by coincidence, Sandy wasn't sure yet. He needed to find out. Emily Jane was aloof, and they had perhaps grown apart too much, but Sandy wanted to think of her as his friend. Even though they hadn't talked in decades and Sandy should probably be more formal and think of her as Mother Nature instead of by her name. Still, she _was _a friend, and friends helped when something was bothering the other.

Sandy had just finished weaving an especially intricate dream that the child it was going to would transform into something even more complex when the wind picked up, biting Sandy's fingertips cheerfully. Jack Frost dropped from the air and landed on Sandy's dreamsand cloud. The boy looked excited and judging by his hair that was even more windswept than usual, he had been flying to Sandy as fast as the wind could take him. Jack's bright blue eyes were alight with childish glee.

"I found her!" he proclaimed, "C'mon! We need to hurry!"

Sandy gave a thumbs-up and then formed a question mark above his head with his dreamsand.

"She's near the Himalayas," Jack said, pointing towards the mountaintops in the distance, "Not too far from here. C'mon!"

Sandy followed the excited young spirit, transforming his dreamsand cloud into an aeroplane to keep up with the boy. Jack led him all the way to some of the lower mountains of the Himalayas, a place with views Sandy hadn't got tired of even after all his years of circling the globe. Mountains after mountains, with snowy slopes Jack had no doubt had some hand in decorating. In the midst of the mountains floated a mass of clouds, and Jack pointed at it.

"See her?"

Sandy nodded. Emily Jane hadn't changed at all from the last time he had seen her. Not that it was anything unusual with people like them. She stood in the air in the middle of the clouds and looked down at the mountaintops. Her hair floated in all directions with the air currents, her robes flared majestically around her, and her eyes sparked with recognition when she saw them.

"Sanderson. Jackson," she said curtly, "You have been following me for weeks. What is it you want from me?"

_We think you know already_, Sandy mimed at her. Emily Jane nodded.

"You wish to talk to me. But why?"

"You've been messing with weather" Jack spoke up, crossing his arms, "That's got everyone on edge. Did you think we wouldn't do something about it?"

_We were worried about you_, Sandy added.

"Don't get all familiar on me, Jackson," Mother Nature said, "And you definitely aren't one to talk about messing around with things. As for you, Sanderson: there is nothing wrong with me."

_But you are worried._

"Of course I am. Haven't you sensed it?"

"Sensed what?" Jack asked.

Mother Nature raised her hand, combing her fingers through the air that warmed up at her touch.

"The boundaries of this world have weakened," she said, "Now all sorts of creatures have broken through. The Chitauri, the Asgardians... and that's not all. The Earth can feel it. Somewhere out there is yet another uninvited entity with their sights set on Earth."

Sandy frowned. He knew what Emily Jane spoke of. He had felt it too. The tiny tears in reality that came about when too much foreign forces strained Earth. It wasn't unheard of. Aliens had come here before; Sandy was one of them, though he hadn't arrived by choice. Just like Mother Nature herself. But before these last couple of years, everything had been quiet for centuries.

"Old Man Thor has been taking care of those otherworldly guys pretty well, and he's staying on Earth now," Jack said, but Sandy could hear even the boy wasn't ignorant of the tearing reality, "The other Avengers haven't been too shabby either. You think they can't handle it?"

"They might," Mother Nature admitted, "But it doesn't matter. I am not about to let anyone else come here and start another fight again. Humans fight amongst themselves enough as it is."

_What are you going to do?_

"Some have come through again. Asgardians, who hide very well. I am going to find them and then drive them off before they can cause trouble."

Sandy and Jack exchanged glances.

"There are Asgardians here? Other than Thor?"

"It seems that way," Emily Jane said bitterly, "They have caused nothing but trouble lately."

_If that's the case, you should probably let Thor take them back_, Sandy reasoned.

Emily Jane seemed to consider this. Sandy was surprised. He hadn't expected her to listen to him so easily, even after everything they had been through in the past.

"That does sound sensible," she finally admitted, "I... thank you, Sanderson. Perhaps I will tell him. You don't have to get involved in this."

Sandy had known she would say that. Mother Nature worked on her own whims, alone with the world. She turned to leave, then halted for another thoughtful moment before speaking again:

"I will try to keep the weather calm."

There was an undercurrent of regret in her voice. Maybe she had let the weather rage freely when she had searched for the Asgardians that seemed to vex her quite a bit. Maybe she just hadn't realized just how much the effects had been noticed. She departed with the clouds, leaving Jack and Sandy above the mountains.

"You think she'll settle the weather now?" Jack asked.

Sandy nodded.

_She doesn't want to be feared, _he messaged, taking great care to form every image clearly.

"Right. Should we be more worried about those Asgardians?"

Sandy shrugged thoughtfully. Perhaps they should at least be on their guard. They would have to inform North, Tooth, and Bunny about this. It was time for a Guardian meeting.

* * *

When Thor Odinson had first been sent to Earth, he would have never imagined he would like it enough to one day want to stay. He was an Asgardian, similar in appearance but so different in nature than humans. Humans were fragile and did not know magic. Some of them had worshipped the Asgardians as gods. But Thor had to admit that he had come to see the beauty of Earth, of humans, in no small part thanks to the lovely Jane Foster, who now slept peacefully in the home Thor shared with her. He could hardly believe his father had let him have this life. He should have become the new king of Asgard, in a time that seemed so long ago now, but instead of a palace and power he had chosen love and a house in a suburb. His fellow protector of the Earth, Mr. Stark, had called it clichéd. That was a bit insulting in Thor's opinion.

Right now, Thor could not sleep. It wasn't because of stress or noise or any other thing the humans usually complained about. Well, if he had to pick he would go with the noise. The Earth did sound a lot different from his home. But he had got used to the Earth sounds easily enough. What really troubled him now was more a specific call than random sounds. Something, or someone, clearly wished to talk to him. He had been standing for an hour at the window of his new home, staring outside as if he could drag the caller in with just a thought. He knew it wouldn't happen, though. He had no power that could do that. He spared a glance at the bedroom behind him, watching the quiet rise and fall of the bed covers. Whatever the call was about, it was probably meant only for him. Jane didn't seem to have been disturbed. He hesitated briefly and finally gave in. He threw a jacket over his nightclothes, put on his shoes and silently opened the front door.

The call led him to one of the parks near his home. The park was serene and empty in the night, but Thor didn't allow himself to lower his guard. He still did not know who had called him, and that made it even more suspicious. It wasn't anyone of his family, that was for sure. It wasn't any of the heroes he had fought with in the past – their way of messaging was far different. This was magic so subtle that humans couldn't discern it from the air they breathed, yet it was everywhere. And it had called him. Why? He was not about to let go of it until he found out.

Thor stopped walking when he came into a thicket of trees at the edge of the park. It was still dead silent, but in front of him he could see the air solidifying into a shape. She wore the clouds, the nature around her as simple but elegant robes. Her black hair was not completely separated from the air, but faded ethereally into it. Her eyes were bright and hard, and her mouth was set into a grim line. Thor was taken aback. Not so much by her grave expression as by simply her being there. It couldn't be... could it?

"Gaia?" he whispered.

She tilted her head, irritation evident on her pale, coldly beautiful face. A gust of wind blew through the park.

"No," she said in a voice that echoed in the leaves and in the wind, "There is something you should know, Mr. Odinson."

* * *

Tony had finally left his work for a moment in order to take Pepper out for dinner. It was the least he could do after once again realizing Pepper had managed to get most of his problems for the week solved while he had struggled with something more pointless. Like finding clues about the assassin named the Taskmaster. There was something that bothered Tony about the case. He had found out very quickly that the "security leak" meant that someone had stolen weapon designs. By using legitimate agent's codes, which indicated the possibility of someone going rogue. The codes were from a KIA agent whose apparent death and the first sightings of the Taskmaster were suspiciously close to one another. It could be that... no. This wasn't the time. Finding that guy wasn't even his job. His job right now was managing the Stark Industries and trying to get his psyche to fully recover. He supposed one of the ways to do that was to take his girlfriend out on a normal date and trying not to worry about either of them exploding.

Tony had to admit that the night was a lot more fun and a lot more relaxing than any other night had been in months. The restaurant they went to wasn't the most ridiculously expensive in town, but it was definitely classy and served some damn good food. And he and Pepper could talk there. About mundane things that could be talked about without caring if someone overheard. Tony found himself actually relaxing and spending two whole hours without thinking about anything too stressful or complicated. At the end of it they were both pleasantly tipsy and walked back to Tony's car while chatting and laughing like a couple of high schoolers.

"Man, Steve is missing out."

Pepper frowned a bit at the out-of-place comment.

"Why? Because he doesn't go on dates?"

"Nah. Because he can't get drunk."

Pepper laughed.

"At least he won't do anything stupid under the influence."

"No, he's gonna have to take all the blame himself when he's being stupid," Tony said, "Not that it happens too often. The guy's a boy scout."

He took a moment to look at the darkening sky. There was a distant blink of reflecting light on top of a building.

"You know, if I wasn't a little drunk right now, I'd realize how happy I am and how weird it is to be happy after all the bullshit we've been through."

His mind was relaxingly blurry, but that definitely wasn't the best part about the moment; Pepper was holding his hand. She looked stunning in her elegant black dress, and she was alive and she was everything that was Pepper. Wait, that sounded like a pun that went nowhere. Or not. Maybe he'd had a bit too much to drink after all. Did it matter? They had a chauffeur. Nothing could really ruin this moment.

There was a tiny voice in Tony's head that managed to pierce through the drunkenness and remind him that thinking that nothing could ruin the moment would definitely be just asking for something to ruin it. And it had a good point, but Tony refused to listen to it.

They were almost at the car when a whistle startled them a second before Tony felt a spear of intense pain all the way through his shoulder blade to his chest. Something threw him off-balance, and he dimly heard Pepper shout in what was probably panic. Then the street came to meet his face and he had to cough. Something red splattered onto the asphalt. He tried to move his hands and his feet, but his muscles were very quickly losing their strength to the pain. He couldn't breathe properly and he was also evidently losing a lot of blood. Maybe going into shock too. Pepper was talking very determinedly on the phone. Tony couldn't really see her anymore. There was only blackness that blackened even further.

Tony's last thought before losing consciousness was something about the moment being very thoroughly ruined.

* * *

The Taskmaster proved to be very elusive for a man who liked to wear a skull mask and a hood, but Fury wasn't too concerned yet. Nothing escaped S.H.I.E.L.D. forever. If they could track down aliens, gods and myths, they could track down an assassin. The case of the stolen weapon designs was the easiest part. Someone had indeed broken into S.H.I.E.L.D.'s database and copied the designs about two months ago. Well, broken into was a bit misleading. The thief, whoever they were, had used the ID of one of their agents who had been killed in action, and the database had just handed the designs to them without even alerting anyone until they performed a more thorough scan on the system.

That discovery bothered Fury more than anything at the moment. There were admittedly several ways someone could have got their hands on the ID and codes of one of their dead agents, but almost all of those ways were extremely difficult and would require a lot of resources and ingenuity. And to get the system to actually recognise the outdated codes had taken some serious hacking as well. Obviously their system wasn't as foolproof as they had thought. Fury would have to get that fixed too, as soon as possible.

Fury had just finished with a particularly taxing bit of paperwork – certainly the more dull part of any law-enforcement job – when he got a call from Hill.

"What is it?"

"We have a situation," Hill said in a clipped tone, "Stark has been shot with an arrow."

* * *

**Author's Note: Uhh... I swear this is going somewhere. Eventually. Feedback is very, very welcome, you lovely people!**

**All info about Mother Nature a.k.a Emily Jane is from the ****_Guardians of Childhood _****books. I might come back to these chapters and break them off a bit differently, maybe combine chapters or something but that will be after I get this done more. Not much else to say so I won't waste your time further.**

**See you!**


	4. The Pieces Are Moving

**Introducing (sort of) the rest of the villains so far. They were suggested by Kagirinai and Maximus Potter. Thanks, guys!**

* * *

**4. The Pieces Are Moving**

A private jet landed near Philadelphia, a respectable distance away from too many prying eyes – although the electronic ones were impossible to escape nowadays. The pilot had been specifically ordered to pick up the sole passenger all the way from China, and he was more than happy to oblige and accept the generous pay check he received from the job. The payment had been enough for both doing the job well and not asking questions. The pilot had been told that their passenger was a diplomat, someone with delicate business in the United States, so it made sense to travel privately and avoid public airports. What the pilot hadn't been told was that his passenger would never pass the security checks of a public airport.

The pilot, who was known to his neighbours as Mr. Greene and to his friends as just Bob, glanced over his shoulder at the door that obscured his view of the luxurious side where the passenger sat. His passenger had seemed like a cheery fellow. The man spoke English a bit brokenly but had a very impressive vocabulary. He was dressed in a sharp business suit, nothing traditionally Oriental anywhere. Mr. Greene couldn't be sure of the man's appearance because of the man's shades and classy, brimmed hat. He guessed the man would look, well, Asian under the hat and sunglasses. Mr. Greene was racist in the ignorant, innocent sort of way that mostly meant no harm.

Mr. Greene pressed a button that routed his voice into the plane's speakers.

"We'll be landing in about fifteen minutes. I thank you for flying with us. Have a very nice day, sir."

The announcement was maybe a bit informal for a Chinese diplomat, but it was the best Mr. Greene could do. He was a simple man who didn't really know nor care about licking the boots of important people. There were a lot of things he didn't know about. He didn't know that the diplomat he had just flown to the USA had a very aggressive idea of diplomacy. He didn't know that the nausea he was starting to feel was because of radiation sickness or that he would die from a sniper's bullet to the brain a couple of hours later. He simply landed his jet with professional ease and let the enigmatic Chinese man step out into a cab that was already waiting.

He could have sworn he saw the back of the man's neck glowing green.

* * *

Several dozen miles from the place where the glowing man had landed, a man and a woman walked on a crowded street and drew quite a lot of looks from everyone around them. It wasn't that they looked odd; they were simply conspicuous. The woman was gorgeous, and that alone was enough to make everyone stare at her. She was tall, with curves that were usually seen in films or magazines, and not in real life. They were accentuated by the simple yet obviously expensive green dress she was wearing. Her blonde hair was long and flowed in the wind in an almost unearthly way. The man with her would have gone unnoticed next to her attention hogging beauty if he weren't so huge; if one wanted to get a good look at the woman, one would inevitably have a view of the man as well. He had the kind of muscles you got only by spending countless of obsessive hours in the gym. He was scowling in a way that effectively kept even the boldest of tough guys at bay and trailed after the woman like a silent bodyguard. Although, those who thought that the woman would need a bodyguard were dead wrong.

The woman adjusted the sunglasses on her face and took a sharp right turn, her high heels clacking hollowly against the street. She stopped in front of a building that didn't stand out from the rest of the concrete blocks in any way. She dug out a small piece of paper from a bag and read it once more to make sure she had the right address. It was. She motioned the man to follow and opened the shaded glass door. Once inside, she closed the paper into her fist, opened it, and let ashes fall on the floor.

* * *

"Some of your people have come to Earth."

Thor stared at the woman in front of him. He had not expected to hear _this_. Some of his people? Why would they wish to come here? Well, unless some had been banished like he had once been. Or were his brother, the trickster who had wanted to take over Earth at one point. But Loki was dead now. Thor spared a moment of internal silence at his brother. Loki had redeemed himself the best he could in the end. And the rest of his people should be recovering from the war against the Dark Elves.

"What do you mean?" he managed to ask.

"Exactly what I said," Mother Nature looked back at Thor, her stormy eyes grey and golden at the same time, "They have hidden well from everyone, even me. But now it has gone on enough. I want them gone."

Thor frowned sceptically.

"I have not been informed of this at all."

"They must have come here secretly, then," Mother Nature shrugged her shoulders, "But I know they are here nonetheless. I thought you should be warned."

"Are they here with ill intentions?" Thor asked, still not sure what to make of this. He supposed this woman would be the one to sense if something was wrong on Earth. She was bound to be deeply in tune with the planet. Still, why would she start accusing his people of it?

"I am fairly sure they are," Mother Nature said darkly, "And in any case, this is not the place for them. I don't want to watch people breaking into this world on their whims. They have caused nothing but trouble."

Thor took a step forward. No matter who she was, this woman had no right to insult his people.

"I will not hear such slander! We have no intention to break in here!"

"Yet here you are."

Thor clenched his hands into fists. Mother Nature did not seem fazed by it.

"You I can tolerate, Mr. Odinson," she said, but Thor could hear it wasn't really an attempt at diplomacy, merely a statement, "You kept Loki at bay when he was wreaking havoc. Now I want you to take care of those other two. Take them back home."

Thor frowned.

"Why should I take orders from you? You call me here to insult Asgard and then expect me to fight my own people?"

"I doesn't have to come to fighting," Mother Nature said, "I came to you specifically so you would find a more diplomatic route. They will no doubt ignore my pleas, but they might listen to you. If that fails, I will step in."

Clouds above them darkened until they were inky black. Thor could feel the sharp wind through his jacket. Had he been a human, he would have been shivering madly.

"What if they aren't here to cause harm? Would you risk Asgard's anger because of this?" Thor snapped.

"_They are trespassers!_" Mother Nature's voice suddenly became thunderous, less like a woman and more like a force of nature, "They have scared the Earth itself. _I will not stand for it!_ Don't you see, Mr. Odinson? The boundaries of this world are so frayed almost anyone could step through! If someone doesn't make a stand, the Earth could be overrun at any time!"

She took a deep breath.

"This isn't war, Mr. Odinson. I am simply protecting this world."

Thor slowly let his hands relax. He could see that Mother Nature was ready to wage one woman war even against Asgard itself just to protect Earth if she had to. He had to admit that he might do the same if it really came down to that. But...

"I will not fight without a good reason," Thor said finally, "But if there really are my people here, I do wish to find them."

Mother Nature nodded.

"Thank you, Mr. Odinson. There are two of them. A man and a woman. I don't know their names, but they have been hiding in Northern Germany for a while now."

"So you do not know where they are for certain?"

Mother Nature's smile was very hollow.

"I know they have been in contact with a man named Heinrich Zemo, but that is the most I can tell. Perhaps you can talk to your friends about this. They seem to have good connections. If that assassin doesn't kill them first, that is."

"What assassin?" Thor frowned, worry overwriting everything else for a moment.

"Your friends should know," Mother Nature said without sounding worried at all, "I am not one to contact humans."

"Aye..." Thor sighed, "Are you as invisible to them as the Guardians are?"

Mother Nature nodded.

"I am not even sure when it all started. I suppose the difference is that I don't care whether they see me or not."

Thor looked at the lonely woman, who had perhaps been lonely for so long that she did not even feel it, and felt a spark of compassion.

"Very well," he said, "I will take your warning to heart. Let me take care of this."

"I will. But I will be watching."

With those rather ominous words, Mother Nature was gone, leaving only an apprehensive silence. Morning dew had frozen on the leaves, but Thor could see the ice melting when Mother Nature and her worries left the park.

* * *

Pepper hated the sound of the hospital machines beeping. Her more primitive side would have wanted to test if there was enough Extremis virus left in her to smash the machines with her bare hands. But that would be stupid, not to mention counterproductive for Tony's survival. So she settled for passive-aggressive glaring whenever she wanted something to get her mind off the fact that her boyfriend was barely clinging to life in the operating room.

They hadn't had time to get Tony to any of his usual surgeons. The closest ambulance had taken them to Lower Manhattan Hospital, where Pepper had called a couple of bodyguards to guard Tony just in case. The arrow had punctured Tony's left lung, and the arrowhead had been left in when Tony had fallen and the arrow had snapped in two. Who the hell went around New York shooting arrows at billionaires anyway? Other than Hawkeye, Pepper didn't know anyone who even used the damn things as weapons these days. And Hawkeye would never hurt Tony. Pepper was sure of that. But who would? Wait, that was a stupid question. Pepper could probably make a few pages long list right now off the top of her head. She let out a sigh. Tony had left Iron Man behind, but it didn't seem to have made his life any safer.

Pepper didn't know how many hours it would take for the surgeons to extract the arrowhead. It all blurred together into a dull, worry-filled blob of time. Pepper was used to worrying about things. She had a job at the top of Stark Industries, so worrying was one of the many things in her job description. She had also been Tony's friend and later girlfriend for years now. One could not know Tony Stark for long and not get into worrisome situations. Pepper had by now got so used to it that she could sit more or less patiently and wait for the situation to resolve itself. It didn't keep her from wishing there was something more she could do for Tony right now. Calling the ambulance and doing her best to keep Tony breathing when she and a very shocked chauffeur had waited for the sirens to swoop into earshot didn't seem like enough. But really, what could she do? She wasn't a surgeon. She would just have to wait and keep Tony's business empire standing – just like she pretty much always did. And hope. She really needed that too right now.

* * *

What hope Pepper managed to kindle within herself was mostly her own, but it did have a little help. Practically all hope did. The reason holiday mascots and anthropomorphic personifications existed was that there were times when people needed a little bit extra to make it through the day. And sometimes even that wasn't enough, but that was life. The bottom line was that if one wanted to find hope, they needed to look into themselves because hope didn't have a number on the yellow pages, or even an address.

The _Guardian_ of Hope did have an address, however, and he indeed was that little extra help people sometimes needed. His job also included chocolate making, egg hiding in Easter where appropriate, and making sure time travellers didn't meddle with history. However, he wasn't very easy to find either. Those who were lucky enough to meet him would immediately guess Australia, but they were wrong. He simply liked Australia, even though Australia didn't like him very much. The most accurate directions to his home that he would give to some carefully chosen individuals was simply "on Easter Islands", but that wasn't nearly specific enough to find him unless he wanted to be found.

Right now, though, his location was North Pole, and he wasn't especially happy about it. It was so bloody cold in there, and even though Santa's workshop normally had very good central heating, it was currently malfunctioning after suffering a severe case of elf-related chaos. So Bunnymund was left sitting grumpily near a fireplace while the rest of the Guardians seated themselves so that their meeting could start. Toothiana the Tooth Fairy sat next to Bunnymund to keep warm as well, but Sandy, Jack, and North didn't seem to be too bothered. Heck, Jack was obviously overjoyed because of the broken heating. Little Frostbite was prancing around the room, partly out of anxiety and partly out of his usual peppiness.

"...so we're not going to do anything about it?" Frostbite was saying incredulously, "But Mother Nature said there's something about to come through! You heard her, Sandy."

He turned to look at the eldest Guardian, who nodded reluctantly but also conjured up dreamsand images that advised the boy to calm down.

"Think about it, Jack," Bunnymund spoke up, "Nothin's happened yet. We can't just go world surfin' because something _might_ come through."

"Bunny is right," said Nicholas St. North, putting on his leader voice – something that Bunnymund didn't always care for but that was welcome right now, "We defend. Protect. We don't attack just because of rumours."

Jack sighed. The temperature inched further down a couple of degrees. Bunnymund snuggled closer to the fireplace.

"Oi! Watch it, Frostbite!"

"Well, what about those Asgardians?" Jack asked and deliberately ignored Bunnymund's complaints, "You think it's smart to let Mother Nature handle them?"

Sandy spoke up – figuratively – quickly forming images above his golden crown of hair. He had watched her. She had indeed gone to see Mr. Odinson and then left. For now, at least. Bunnymund had to find that reassuring, even though he couldn't say he trusted Mother Nature very much. She was too uncaring and didn't believe in alliances. And if someone wanted to call Bunnymund biased because Mother Nature was the daughter of the bastard who had wiped out Bunnymund's entire race... they would have been correct if Bunnymund hadn't been above that sort of thing. Mostly.

"I believe Mother Nature will leave it be now," North said, "She doesn't want to get involved too much."

"I hope ya're right," Bunnymund muttered, "But we know she's unpredictable."

"I can dispatch some of my fairies to keep watch on her," said Toothiana, who had been unusually quiet until now, "So that Sandy can focus on his duties fully again."

Sandy nodded gratefully, but also mimed quickly that it had been no trouble. No one missed how sleepy he looked, though. He projected a few more words and the Guardians watched intently.

"So Mother Nature knows those mysterious Asgardians have something to do with the Avengers being attacked?" Tooth summarised, crossing her feathered arms, "I don't like this."

"Those guys can take care of themselves," Bunnymund said dismissively. He didn't appreciate those Shield-agents meddling into their business. He had really hoped they would just continue coexisting without crossing paths.

Tooth looked grimly at them all.

"One of my fairies was sidetracked last night in New York because of a commotion involving Anthony Stark. He was shot."

"What?" Jack gasped, "Just like that?"

Tooth shrugged helplessly.

"He and Miss Virginia Potts were apparently on a date. Nothing... superhero related as far as I know."

There was a contemplative silence. North stroked his long, white beard with a frown on his face. Sandy had an ellipsis over his head. Jack dropped the temperature one more degree out of sheer worry.

"Is he alright?" he asked.

"Alive," Tooth said, "But in a hospital. I don't know anything else."

"Alright," Bunnymund huffed, "That's sad an' all, but those guys get shot at all the time."

"Bunny!" Tooth admonished, "He could die!"

Bunnymund raised his paws defensively.

"I mean, we've talked 'bout this. We can't be too upset with every single tragedy. We've got to keep going so we can keep helping. All I meant was: why d'ya think that has something to do with... well, anything that'd require our help?"

Tooth pursed her lips irritably. Her wings started fluttering and she rose into the air.

"Well, I think we should at least look into it! I mean, Asgardians, Mother Nature... S.H.I.E.L.D. being kind enough to ask us for advise before doing anything rash. We should at least make sure they aren't in over their heads."

"I agree" said North cheerfully, "I think we can all agree that something strange is going on."

"I thought we agreed before that our job isn't the Avengers' job an' vice versa," Bunnymund grumbled.

"We're not starting any agent business, or... or going to a war, Bunny," Frostbite said, "We're just making sure our old pals are fine. What? You scared?"

Bunnymund glared.

"Nobody said anythin' about scared, Snowflake! And those 'pals' we're the ones who kidnapped you, remember?"

Jack waved his hand lightly.

"Meh, they said they're sorry. And we're cool now, remember? Holding grudges for stuff like that is boring, anyway."

"Then is settled," North said, "We get to bottom of this. Well, as long as it doesn't interfere with actual duties."

He glanced worriedly towards his workshop, where his yeti workers were trying their best to fix the heating and simultaneously keep the toy factory running.

"Now, if everyone is clear on things, this meeting is over. I think elves are trying to set stuffed animals on fire."

* * *

"Miss Potts?"

Pepper looked up when a doctor called for her. The woman was in her mid forties and looked every bit the stereotypical doctor with her dark rimmed glasses and the serious bun her hair had been pulled up into. The only thing that messed with the image were the five holes in her left ear that no doubt had earrings in them when she was off-duty.

"Yes?" Pepper asked, partly relieved and partly fearful to finally get news. Tony had been in surgery for... hours? Time was still all smudged up for her. She might have even fallen asleep at some point. She wasn't sure any more.

"I am doctor Blackwell," said the doctor, shaking Pepper's hand, "Mr. Stark has been stabilized for now. The arrowhead has been extracted and his lung has been repaired to the best of our abilities. There were no serious complications."

"Will he be all right?" Pepper asked, standing up from the chair she had been rooted into for the last blob of time.

Doctor Blackwell looked at her notes, probably just for show.

"I would say his chances are fairly good, considering the extent of the damage. He is unconscious right now, and we don't yet know if he sustained brain damage from the impact he suffered while falling. His lung will take time to recover fully, and he has lost a lot of blood. There is still a high risk of infection. At the moment, we can only wait and see."

"Can I see him?"

Doctor Blackwell smiled sympathetically.

"Yes, you can, Miss Potts."

Tony was pale and hooked to several annoyingly beeping machines. Pepper cautiously walked across the room when Doctor Blackwell let her in and she sat by Tony's bedside. This wasn't the first time Tony had been on the brink of death. He had lived the last few years of his life dying, until the shrapnel he had got into his chest all those years ago had finally been removed. And now someone had gone and shot more foreign objects into Tony's chest. Pepper knew Tony was strong, but she had to wonder how many serious surgeries a human body could take in such a short time.

No, she couldn't think like that. Tony would survive. He had to.

Pepper touched Tony's hand that lay on the covers. Behind the oxygen mask, Tony's face was slack, missing the energy Tony usually had. Pepper pressed her mouth into a thin line.

"I know you," she said quietly, "You're not going to let something like this kill you."

She really hoped she was right. The machines beeped, and despite hating them, Pepper found some solace in the fact that the beeping was steady and indicated Tony was at least stable. Outside, it began to snow.

* * *

Films and postcards liked to depict snow as always white, powdery, and, depending on the mood, fun or romantic. Everyone who lived in the real world knew that it definitely wasn't the only type of snow in existence, and everyone in New York was now reminded of that fact. The first snowfall of the year was the opposite of fun or romantic. It consisted of heavy, large clumps of half-frozen water molecules stuck together. They melted when they made contact with almost anything other than air and made those who were more well versed in the matter debate whether it could be called snow or just sleet. It was almost depressing, like whoever was in charge of it wasn't even trying. To be fair, he wasn't.

He was too busy sitting in the air with his nose against a hospital window, chanting something silently at the people inside. He didn't even care that he was the only thing besides air that didn't melt the sleet, which froze into flakes of ice that clung to his hair and skin. Jack Frost wasn't a welcome visitor in hospitals, because he radiated coldness that the patients or delicate electronics definitely didn't need. However, he didn't want to constantly stay away from the places where people needed some extra joy to get better. So he settled for straying to the hospital windows, drawing pretty patterns with frost and wishing the patients well. This time he had taken a detour to Lower Manhattan Hospital, where Tony Stark had been stationed in.

Usually he focused mostly on children's wards, but he had figured he could make an exception every once in a while. Tony wasn't quite a friend, but he was fun to play pranks on. It had become a kind of competition. Tony would upgrade the security measures in his tower to prevent any trouble Jack could cause, and Jack would occasionally try to circumvent Tony's systems. It was never anything serious, just some harmless fun like leaving a taunting message written in frost on Tony's computer screens. Now, though, Jack wasn't there to leave messages or to test security measures. Now it was time to take a minute to watch over a sort of friend, who was stable for the moment, but still looked incredibly fragile. It just wasn't like Tony at all.

Jack pressed his hands against the window, ignoring the frost that started to spread on the glass. He chanted the spell, which North had taught him, a few more times:

"I believe. I believe. I believe."

* * *

S.H.I.E.L.D. had doubled their efforts to find the Taskmaster after Stark had been attacked. It was clear now that someone was after the Avengers. But whether it was the Taskmaster himself or someone who had hired the man, they didn't know. Whichever the case, they would have to start with neutralizing the assassin. Fury would not let his best defence team going down like this. Until the Taskmaster was in their custody, they would have to be extra careful.

After dispatching a couple of agents to the hospital Stark was recovering in – well, hopefully recovering and not just slowly dying – Fury had put a few of their less acute projects on hold just to liberate even more resources to tracking the elusive assassin down. He spent hours working overtime – if that was possible when he considered himself to be working 24/7 – looking up their satellite pictures and making calls all over the world. In the second night after Stark had been shot, Fury finally got what he wanted.

He looked over the maps on his computer screen, smiled without any real joy, and then made one more call.

"I think we've got him."

* * *

"_I think we've got him."_

Natasha Romanoff had been waiting for someone to tell her that a while ago. When the radioed green light to start her mission was through, she was already on her way. The Taskmaster had very likely been spotted in a dingy hotel in Chicago. Natasha had taken the first S.H.I.E.L.D.-transport she could get and was trailing the man less than two hours after she had got her call. The man had unknowingly led Natasha to the outskirts of an industrial area, where Natasha now had a perfect vantage point.

She had pulled her shoulder-length, red hair up in a ponytail and was wearing her form-fitting black agent suit under a simple coat that would help her blend into the more populated areas she might need to get through. She had considered dressing entirely in civilian clothes, but their mysterious assassin had proven to be an opponent who shouldn't be given any advantages. Natasha would start in full stealth mode and try to get close to the man that way. If it didn't work all the way to the end, she would present herself vulnerable enough for the Taskmaster to think he had a good chance to get her. The man would need to think that she was looking for him, but he would also need to believe that he would be able to surprise her. It shouldn't be too hard an illusion to pull off. Natasha had pretty much perfected that tactic. People usually underestimated a woman with a pretty face, something Natasha would have been more annoyed about if it wasn't so easy to take advantage of.

She triple-checked that her trusted Glock pistols were in their holsters, easily in reach and well hidden under her coat before pulling out a pair of binoculars again and switching them to heat vision. It was getting dark; the buildings became grey boxes and streets started to turn into black strips of nothing that broke the city into a jigsaw puzzle of street lights and advertisements. The boxes and puzzles slid away from Natasha's sight and were replaced with colours. Reddish spots that were warm and walked around were mostly concentrated on the streets. A few more lonely ones had strayed from the roads, and one was situated on the roof of a building not too far away from Natasha, right across the street in fact. And that was the red spot Natasha was the most interested in. She changed the filters in her binoculars until she could get an actually decent look at the man on the roof even in the dark. A skull mask was barely visible in the shadows. He was talking on a phone, probably getting his newest orders. Judging by his body language, he didn't know Natasha was there. Perfect.

Natasha shifted her weight, shedding her coat and putting the binoculars away. She leaned forward and froze. A flash of rainbow caught the corner of her eye. A neon sign reflected on something for a split-second before it was gone. Natasha narrowed her eyes.

"What are you doing here?" she hissed between her teeth, as quietly as she could while still being heard to the newcomer.

"I just got here. I wasn't going to sneak up on you!" a voice from the dark said far too loudly for Natasha's liking, "Not that I could have, anyway. You are _very _perceptive."

"'For a human', I suppose," Natasha replied.

A colourful hybrid of a bird and a woman flitted from behind a billboard. She was very short, but hovered at Natasha's eye level thanks to her rapidly flapping insect wings. Natasha hadn't seen her in a while, not that she had minded. The Tooth Fairy was one of the Guardians, and she had powers associated with memories. Natasha still wasn't quite comfortable around her because of that. The Tooth Fairy had the tendency to remind her of things she couldn't really call a part of her life. Things that a part of her very much wanted to call her life.

"No, I meant in general," the fairy said cheerfully, "Anyway, to answer to your question: I'm here to help. Well, more like keep an eye on things, actually. We don't doubt your ability to handle this on your own. It's just that we – the Guardians, that is – well, some things have come up that really got our attention. Don't worry! It's just for a moment, and you won't even know we're involved. Really, we'll be-"

Natasha moved her head but stayed frozen in her crouch otherwise. The Tooth Fairy was like a hyperactive hummingbird. A very _loud _one. Natasha glanced at the spot where the Taskmaster had been. She couldn't see the man without her binoculars, but she would have to shut up her unexpected companion before checking.

"Toothiana," she whispered forcefully, "This is a _stealth_ mission."

What she meant was that a loud, flying fairy really wasn't good for such a mission. Or that the teal, pink, blue, and yellow feathers didn't make for good camouflage anywhere. Toothiana seemed to understand enough to shut up for a second, at least.

"Oh, don't worry," she then chirped, "I'm sure there won't be anyone around who can see or hear me. No believers here! Well, besides you obviously. Unless whoever you're against uses children, which is very, very unlikely. And too sad to think about!"

Natasha narrowed her eyes further. Toothiana's mouth snapped shut and she made an apologetic gesture with her small, feathered hands. Natasha supposed it wasn't as necessary as she had made it out to be, if Toothiana really was practically non-existent to people who didn't believe in her, but it never hurt to err to the side of caution. She pulled out her binoculars again and checked to see if the Taskmaster had moved. He hadn't. Toothiana peered into the darkness as well.

"So that's the assassin that attacked Mr. Barton and Mr. Stark?" Toothiana asked, this time at least keeping her voice down.

Natasha nodded. Toothiana shielded her eyes and looked critically at the man.

"What are you going to do with him?"

"Get close, incapacitate him, and get info," Natasha replied, "It might involve a fight. And you? Were you doing to screw with his mind with your memory powers or something?"

Toothiana looked very offended.

"I don't 'screw' with anyone's mind! And no, we don't even know who he is, so there's no way I'll be able to even find his memories without getting closer to him first."

Well, that was a surprise. Not that Natasha knew exactly how the Tooth Fairy did her memory magic – except that it had something to do with the teeth she and her tiny helpers collected – but she had figured she would just know everyone's memories just like that. Somehow realizing that she didn't made Natasha feel a little more comfortable. At least she could now think there were at least some of her own memories the fairy couldn't get access to, as well. Maybe.

"So what _do _your people know about this guy?" she had to ask anyway.

"Not much," Toothiana shrugged, "Not even his name. He's not a child so he isn't our priority. Still, it's a bit weird that we couldn't get so much as a name. If we had it, we could find him on North's lists. Sandy knew a little bit at least. Said his brain is wired differently than most. He couldn't really explain it. Something to do with memory. That's partly why I'm here."

"And the other reasons as to why you?"

"We thought I would get along with you. At least better than the others."

Well, Natasha supposed that was reasonable. They had shared a sort of friendly moment back when they had met, after getting over the initial misunderstandings. That didn't really make them friends or confidants in Natasha's eyes, but the Guardians probably thought differently. They seemed to be stuck in a more idealistic way of thinking.

"If you're really here to just watch," Natasha whispered, "then stay out of the way and we'll be fine."

"Oh, I promise," Toothiana said, as cheerful as ever, "I will come to your aid if you need it, though."

"Fair enough," Natasha said.

Not that she would need any help if things went according to plan, or even in many cases when things _didn't _go according to plan. She checked once more to make sure that the Taskmaster was still at his spot. After determining that he was, she jumped down from her vantage point, landing on a fire escape staircase and sneaking down as quietly as she could. She tried her best to tune out the humming of Toothiana's wings as the fairy followed her. To Toothiana's credit, she did keep a respectful distance, probably understanding that Natasha wanted some space. Natasha pressed her back against the wall at a corner of a building, and took a moment to let silence fall again after it had been broken by her nearly silent footsteps. She knew she wasn't being as careful and professional as she could have been, but that was the point. The Taskmaster seemed to like surprising them when they believed to be in their own element. It was time to turn that strategy against the man.

She had made her way almost all the way across the street before the assassin took the bait. She had been prepared for the arrows, and she knew several ways to steer clear of them. She and Clint knew each other's fighting styles well enough to counter most of the things they could throw at each other in a training session or a sparring match. And in one very unfortunate instance, in a real fight when Clint had been mind-controlled by Loki. An arrow clacked against the wall near Natasha, and Natasha quickly crouched down and rolled, catching the arrow from the ground in the process. It had been broken on impact, but it would give some useful information if she took it to one of their labs. She broke into a run, staying in the shadows and avoiding places where firing a bow would be a viable option. She heard Toothiana's wings and the man's distant, speeding footsteps. A louder, but still muffled thud came from an alley to her left and Natasha concluded that the Taskmaster had left the rooftops and descended on her level. She pulled a Glock out of its holster and waited until she heard the man rounding a corner to the same street she was on. Then she spun around as quickly as she could and aimed a warning shot at the man's feet. She closed their distance when the man tried to fit another arrow on his bow – which, Natasha noted when getting closer, was very similar in style to Clint's bow – and fired another shot. The Taskmaster spun back behind the corner, the bullet flying past him. The man was obviously quick to react.

"He's preparing a pistol," came Toothiana's voice from higher up. The fairy was flying near the rooftops, surveying the battlefield with a soldier's vigilance.

Natasha didn't bother replying, but instead dove for cover when the man opened fire. She crawled behind abandoned, metallic shipping crates and pulled a small flashbang grenade from her belt. She let the assassin get closer before she threw it at his feet and closed her eyes. A shout of surprise and pain was all Natasha needed to know that it had worked. She hopped back to her feet and swung herself onto the shipping crate. The Taskmaster was blindly stumbling around near the corner of it, and Natasha crossed the top of the crate and dropped right onto the man's shoulders. The force of the hit, combined with the blindness, drove the Taskmaster into the nearest brick wall. Natasha jumped off, landing behind the assassin in a quiet crouch.

"Nice!" Toothiana cheered.

"That was for Clint and Tony," Natasha huffed, raising her voice to make sure the Taskmaster heard it even through his hood and mask, "What do you think you can accomplish by attacking us?"

The Taskmaster turned, the perpetually angry skull mask not betraying any real emotion.

"Well played," he said, his voice muffled by the mask, "I have to remember that move, ya know?"

Natasha saw the gun flash in the man's hand, and she dodged behind a crate when two shots were fired. One of the bullets grazed her thigh, scratching through her suit and drawing blood. Not quite what she had intended to happen, but she could go with it. She let her knee buckle and allowed a small grunt of pain escape. Toothiana gasped, so Natasha figured she had overreacted to the injury well enough. Still, she couldn't go down too easily. That would be suspicious. She rolled out of her cover, sliding under the man's raised weapon-hand and threw a punch to the man's abdomen. There was armour in the way, but she could punch hard enough to bruise even through it. The Taskmaster countered, surprisingly quick for a man of his body builder-like frame. The kick came right out of nowhere, and Natasha didn't even have to fake the air leaving her lungs when she was struck in the solar plexus. She hit the ground and managed to control the fall just enough to not seriously hurt anything. She gasped and raised her hand defensively, arranging a distressed look on her face.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked breathlessly, "Who wants us dead enough to send _you_?"

The Taskmaster stopped, his gun loosely held at his side. His bow was on his back, but Natasha knew he could pull it out quickly if needed. She would have to be fast and merciless to disarm the man once she got him to talk. Toothiana had lowered herself so that she was right behind the man, looking concerned and clearly wished to assist. Not that she could actually do anything, since she was invisible and intangible to the man. Natasha wondered how exactly she had thought to help.

"You're in the way," the Taskmaster said in an almost bored tone, "Look, girl. I just get paid to do this."

Natasha shrank back, aiming to look defiant and frightened at the same time.

"You shot Tony," she accused, "And attacked Clint. We didn't even know about you before that."

"But I guess you knew about my employer."

Perfect. Now they were getting somewhere. It was amazing how easy it was to get people talking when they thought they were winning.

"No, we don't."

"And I'm not about to tell ya."

Damn. He wasn't as stupid as he looked. He needed another push. Toothiana was hovering even closer to the man, an odd look on her face. It was a mix of horror, fascination, and uncertainty. Natasha wasn't sure if it was aimed at the man or if the fairy had caught onto her scheme and didn't quite approve. She took a deep breath to make sure her lungs had recovered from the kick and then shifted her weight. The Taskmaster's gun was just close enough for her next move.

"So you are just going to kill us, after everything we've done to keep people safe?" she hissed.

The Taskmaster tilted his hooded head.

"Yeah, sorry," he didn't sound sorry at all, "But I told ya; you're in the way."

And he wasn't going to say anything more. Natasha could see it. She needed to be fast or she would be dead. Before the Taskmaster could properly aim his gun, she kicked upwards with her not so injured leg. Her boot hit the man's fingers and didn't unfortunately break anything. It did, however, knock the gun out of the man's hand. Natasha rolled backwards and kicked the gun farther away so that she stood between it and the assassin. The Taskmaster took a couple of steps back, brushing against Toothiana's shoulder...

...and he spun around, aiming a lightning-fast right hook at the Tooth Fairy.

Natasha froze. So did Toothiana and the Taskmaster.

Toothiana had reacted instantly, catching the man's fist with her tiny hand. Her eyes were wide, her mouth open in shock. The Taskmaster struggled against her grip.

"You can... see me?" she stammered, "But how in the... you... what?"

If Natasha too hadn't been so surprised by the fact that the Taskmaster apparently believed in the Tooth Fairy, she would have noted that the fairy's display of super strength looked even more absurd when put against a man built like a renaissance statue.

"You're the Tooth Fairy, aren't'cha?" the Taskmaster said, impressively calm given the situation, "She told me about you... all of you. Not sure everyone believed her. But I did."

"Who told you?" Natasha asked.

The Taskmaster's answer was swinging his free hand at Toothiana. The fairy caught it as well. Her eyes widened even further and she shoved the man away so hard that he hit the wall.

"What happened to you?" she gasped.

Natasha had no idea what had shocked Toothiana so much. What she did know was that the Taskmaster was stunned, and that it was the perfect opportunity to end the fight. She quickly pressed a button that started up electric currents that ran through her gloves, sprinted up to the Taskmaster and lined up her punch. The current in the gloves was just enough to send the man into unconsciousness with negligible damage or pain. The Taskmaster slumped to the ground and Natasha rolled him to his side before calling for a transport to pick them up.

Toothiana was still staring at the assassin's prone form, and Natasha had a feeling there was something else to be upset about than what she could see about the situation.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

Toothiana shook her head vigorously as if wanting to get rid of an unpleasant thought.

"His memories..."

"What about them?"

Toothiana didn't answer. She seemed to be deep in thought. The shock she had been in was wearing off, but it seemed to have been replaced with something else she didn't seem to be inclined to share. Natasha sighed. She hoped the transport wouldn't take long to arrive. Hours in an industrial area with an unconscious assassin and an upset fairy for company definitely wasn't her favourite way of spending her evenings.

* * *

**Author's Note: If I don't get a new chapter out before November starts, don't expect an update until December, because November's writing energy is reserved for NaNoWriMo! So have a longer chapter to make up for it! Or to prolong your suffering because you need to read more, depending on what kind of an effect my writing has on you.**

**...I feel like I'm starting to repeat the basic plot of the first crossover but just with different characters in the roles but... hey, there's tons of other stuff going on that I'll try to pull together towards the end as well. I really am not trying to rehash ****_Clashing with Legends_**** too much. But I also really try to not suck and that isn't working out too well so... But hey, I already have one character in a hospital so at least I've accomplished something...ish. Also, Mother Nature/Emily Jane is fun and difficult to write.**

**Reviews would be very loved because they help me get better! Thank you all who have given me support already and also helped me get ideas for the fic!**


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